


Late Night Cuddles

by Persiflage



Series: Johnson & Coulson Exchange 2k17 [10]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daisy Is The Only Marvel Superhero, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Johnson & Coulson Exchange 2k17, Kissing, Mutual Masturbation, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, Phil Coulson's Prosthetic Hand, Spooning, Watchdogs (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 05:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9221663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: 5 times Phil and Daisy cuddled late at night.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus fic written for the Johnson & Coulson exchange for the prompt _Late night cuddles_ \- 5 linked scenarios starting in S2 and heading into S4a (with some canon divergence).

**[1]**

"Comfy?" Phil asks, and Daisy turns her head to grin at him.

"Very, thanks." She wriggles against him a little, just to emphasise how comfy she feels. He grunts, no doubt because her ass is pressed against his crotch.

"Don't fidget," he chides her. "We're meant to be watching movies."

"I thought the movies were just an excuse to get snugly," she tells him, and she sees him roll his eyes before she turns her attention back to the screen where the opening credits are just starting up. 

She is comfy, though – half sitting, half lying on the couch, her back to Phil's chest, and his arms wrapped securely around her middle. She doesn't just feel secure in his arms, she feels safe, and that means a lot to her after everything that's happened – gaining her powers; finding, then losing her parents; losing Trip. She suspects it means a lot to him, too, although they still haven't talked in any detail about what happened – the way that her mother's scheme was responsible for him losing his hand. Of course, she's wondered, once or twice, whether he would've transformed too, had Mack not cut off his hand – whether he has enough Kree DNA in him from the GH serum to have allowed him to gain Inhuman powers too – but on the whole, she's glad Mack didn't wait to find out. She'd rather have Phil here than otherwise – if she'd lost Phil as well, she'd have left SHIELD.

"You're thinking too much," Phil says behind her, and she feels him press his lips to the back of her head.

"Sorry," she tells him. 

He gives her a squeeze. "Try to relax and enjoy the movie," he says, "or I may be forced to make out with you to make you relax."

She chuckles at that – he's no more a fan of PDA than she is, so she knows that's probably an empty threat – although, it might not be, of course. It's pretty late on a Friday night, and most of the others have gone out for the night, those who are still at the Playground, that is. (Simmons is still missing, Fitz is still hunting down clues to where Simmons went, and May has yet to return from her vacation, although Andrew's been in and out a few times in the last few weeks.) So it's not as though there are that many people around to witness the Director of SHIELD making out on the couch with one of his subordinates. 

She inhales slowly and deeply, then exhales slowly, and her body relaxes against Phil's.

"Better," he murmurs, and she smiles, then focuses her attention properly on the big screen in front of them – she's the one who wanted to watch _Ocean's Eleven_ again, after all.

**[2]**

There's something a bit magical about late night cuddles with Phil Coulson, Daisy decides. She's not sure quite what it is that makes them so special, she just knows that she really enjoys it when he wraps her body in his and cuddles her. Of course, some kinds of late night cuddles also include making out, and may eventually lead to more than just cuddling. Right now his mouth is on her throat and he's sucking and licking at her flesh like it's the tastiest thing in the world, and she has to grab the back of his neck (his hair's too short to grab, sadly) and tug his head back to get him to release her. 

"Are you trying to give me a hickey?" she hisses.

He chuckles. "You don't want one?" 

"Would you, if it meant being pestered 16 times a day by Lance Hunter as he tries to work out how you acquired it?"

"Mmm, okay, I see your point," he mutters, then he gives her the world's evillest grin. "I'll just fire him," he says, and that makes her laugh so much, and then he's laughing too, and for some reason she starts tickling him. They wrestle and tussle back and forth across the bed, until, without quite noticing, they reach the edge and fall off, Daisy landing on top of Phil, knocking the breath out of both of them.

"Happy now?" he wheezes, looking a bit offended.

"You make a great pillow, Phil," she tells him, and wriggles against him in a provocative manner. 

He growls and rolls them over so he's on top, then kisses her, quick and dirty, and she knows exactly how to respond to that, sliding her hands into his sweatpants, one on his ass, the other going for his cock.

"The bed's more comfortable," he protests, then gasps as she flicks her thumb over the head of his dick.

"But we're on the floor," she points out. "And you're the one pinning me down here."

He snorts rudely. "Like you couldn't just vibrate me off you," he says, and she laughs. 

"Fair point." She kisses him, then rolls them over, and gets rid of both his sweatpants and her own, and cuddling is forgotten for the time being.

**[3]**

"Are you sure I can't get you anything?" Phil asks, not for the first time since Daisy came aboard the Zephyr1. 

"Nothing," she tells him dully.

He comes to sit next to her on the couch in the Director's Cabin. They're heading back to the Playground – Lincoln's dead, as is Hive, and they're not the only ones: Andrew's gone too, after he sacrificed himself to save Daisy from Hive's Sway. She feels bereft in ways that she cannot possibly hope to make Phil Coulson understand – not when he's never experienced the perfect connectedness of being under Hive's Sway. 

"Why don't you take my bed and get some rest?" he suggests, and she decides that's the best idea he's had – at least if she's asleep she won't have to think, won't have to remember what's happened – who's died, who she hurt. She forebears from looking at his leg or the walking cane that's near at hand.

"Yeah, okay." She gets to her feet, then finds she's not as steady as she thought, and although a part of her doesn't want to be touched, least of all by Phil Coulson, she lets him put his arm around her and guide her into his bedroom. He helps her onto the bed, getting her boots off, then pulling the comforter up over her. His hands are gentle, even the prosthetic one ( _That's your fault too_ , her subconscious reminds her remorselessly), and she tries not to weep. 

"I'll be in the other room if you need me," he says, then startles her by leaning down and pressing his lips to her brow, and that does make her weep. "Don't cry," he begs, looking like he might just weep himself, and she grabs his hand. 

"Don't leave me alone, Phil, please," she begs in turn, and he looks startled, then bends to remove his shoes. He ditches his flack vest, too, then climbs up the bed from the foot to settle beside her. She immediately rolls towards him, and is desperately grateful when he quickly gets the idea and wraps his arms around her.

"I've got you, Daisy," he says softly. "You're not alone."

 _I am,_ she thinks miserably, certain she'll always be alone. She thinks of how happy she'd been with Phil, and how foolish she'd been for thinking it could last. She thinks of Lincoln, and how angry he'd been when he'd hit on her, and she'd rejected him, telling him that she was already with someone else. (Lincoln had initially thought she was dating Mack, and had been disgusted when he'd finally discovered she was actually in a relationship with Phil Coulson instead.) 

She weeps into Phil's chest for some time while he holds her, rubs her back, and tells her over and over that she's not alone, that he has her. She wishes she could believe him, could accept what he's offering her, but she can't – she's not that young woman any more: Hive's changed her forever. She can't stay, she knows that now. SHIELD will be better off without her. Phil Coulson will definitely be better off without her.

She can't stop herself from falling asleep in Phil's arms one last time, though.

**[4]**

"We really should stop meeting like this," Daisy tells Phil, trying not to sound too mad at him (and trying even harder not to show him how glad she is to see him alive and well after so many months away).

He smirks at her, the infuriating man. "It's none of my doing," he says, far too cheerfully, she feels.

"I'm not the one chasing back and forth across the country after a vigilante," she points out.

"Daisy," he says quietly, the laughter gone from his eyes as he gives her a soft, caring look, and she tries to harden her heart against him, as she reminds herself that she wants nothing to lose. "You're not a vigilante."

She glares at him. "Of course I am. What else would you call someone who's wanted by every agency in the country, _including her own_ for dealing out destruction and punishment against sometimes quite prominent citizens?"

"A superhero," he says, and she can't help just staring at him for a moment.

"How are you real?" she asks wonderingly, and he chuckles again.

"Daisy, I've always had faith in you. Always believed that you'd know what the right thing was to do, and do it."

She sighs, because that's perfectly true. "You shouldn't be here," she tells him.

"But you're a tiny bit glad that I am?" he suggests.

That elicits another sigh. She is glad he's here, patching her up in her safehouse. He'd arrived just in time to help her finish off a gang of half a dozen Watchdogs, and then to help her get to her safehouse, driving her van since her arm's too painful to do it herself.

"Where's Mack?" she asks.

"Visiting Elena."

She nods. "Are they – " She cuts off the question, deciding she doesn't want to know the answer.

"They're okay," he tells her.

"Good." 

He finishes applying the dressing to the back of her right shoulder, then looks down at her ruined shirt. "Do you have spare clothes?" he asks.

"Not here," she tells him – this is a new safehouse and she hasn't stocked up yet. "There's some clothes in a bag out in my van."

He straightens up, shrugs off the short coat he's wearing, then swiftly unbuttons his own shirt, and she stares at him as he peels it off then holds it out to her.

"You'll catch a cold if you're not careful," he tells her, and she swallows, nods, then accepts his shirt. It's still warm from his body, which gives her goosebumps, and then his hands are sliding over hers to fasten the buttons since she's struggling because of the cast he'd had to put on her left arm.

"Will you let me make you something to eat?" he asks, pulling his coat back on over his undershirt.

"There's not much food here either," she says, grimacing.

"Is there food in your van?" 

"Not much," she admits. "I was on my way to the store for supplies when I ran into those Watchdogs."

He nods. "Do you at least have coffee?"

"Yeah, that I do have. Though it's not fancy."

He gives her a little smile. "So long as it's coffee and hot, it'll do."

She smiles weakly back, then leans back against the arm of the couch as he goes through to the kitchen. She ought to send him away, she thinks, but she can't quite bring herself to do that. The truth is, the Watchdogs hurt her quite a lot, and having Phil around, even if it's only for a few hours, will be a help. 

She falls asleep without meaning to while Phil's still rattling around in the kitchen.

DJ-PC-DJ-PC-DJ

When Daisy wakes later, in pain, she's completely disoriented – in part because she's in a strange house that it takes her a moment to recognise is her house, her safehouse, but also because she's wearing an unfamiliar shirt, and there's someone in her kitchen, humming softly. After a little while she recognises the hummer as Phil Coulson, and remembers that the shirt is his too. She reaches for her cell phone on the nearby side table, wondering how long she's been asleep. 

"Here, let me get that," Phil says when she manages only to knock the cell onto the carpet. He stoops down and scoops it up, and when he straightens up, she finds herself staring at him in bemusement: he's wearing _her_ teal green button down, with the sleeves rolled up, and an apron she's pretty sure isn't hers over the top. His vibrations are humming with contentment, just as he was moments before, and his eyes are soft and warm when he passes her the cell phone.

"You've woken up just in time," he tells her as she glances at the display and sees it's 7pm. "Dinner is almost ready."

"Why didn't you wake me?" she asks, half in accusation, then winces as moving reminds her of the wound in her back near her shoulder blade.

"Because you looked like you needed the sleep," he says honestly.

And, well, he's not wrong, she did need the sleep, but now she needs painkillers and food.

"Shall I bring your dinner in here?" he asks.

"No, I'll come through," she tells him. "I've gone off this couch for the moment." 

He smiles, then holds out a hand to help her up to her feet, and she accepts it because she feels a bit shaky. "While you were asleep I nipped as far as the store for food supplies. I just got you some basics," he says, sounding apologetic. "And some ready meals you can put in the micro or the oven to heat." He glances at her arm, and she nods, grateful for his thoughtfulness. 

The kitchen smells heavenly and she's soon tucking into a large plate of lamb hotpot, having first taken some painkillers, and some other pills that he tells her will help her bones to heal. She guesses the latter are ones that he was – or maybe still is – taking for his leg. There's a ridiculous chocolate dessert for a follow up to the hotpot, and she eats two portions (he pretty much insists, knowing how much energy she uses up when deploying her powers). 

He loads up the dishwasher, then offers her coffee or hot chocolate, and she settles for the latter. While he's making it, he broaches the topic that's been on her mind since she woke up: how long can he stay, because he is still a SHIELD agent, even if he's no longer the Director, and whether he calls her a superhero or a vigilante, he's still consorting with a wanted woman.

"I don't want to outstay my welcome," he says softly. "But if you want me to stay until the morning, at least, I will. That dressing on your back will need changing again then, so unless you've got a tame medical person you can go to – " 

He leaves the question hanging, and she knows he's not asking for specifics, he just wants to know whether or not someone can take care of this for her.

"Not locally," she admits, and he nods. "I'd be – I'd be grateful if you could stay."

"Then I will."

"I've only got one bed."

He nods again. "I can sleep on the couch."

"Don't," she says immediately. _Too fast,_ she tells herself angrily.

He tilts his head. "You want me to share with you?"

"Not if it'll make you uncomfortable," she says quickly, backtracking, because while they didn't exactly break up, she did pretty much run out on him without warning nearly 7 months ago. "I – "

"Daisy, it's fine," he says softly. 

She nods gratefully, then changes the subject so she won't get too emotional. "You're wearing my shirt."

To her surprise he blushes. "I didn't have a spare one with me, and I didn't want to take the time to go looking for a clothing store as well as getting food. Sorry." He reaches up to begin unbuttoning it, and she puts her right hand over his. 

"It looks good on you," she tells him, and he smirks. 

"Mine looks better on you."

She is surprised to find herself grinning back at him. "Of course."

He chuckles, and she feels a tension she hadn't been aware of draining from her. "Let's go to bed."

"Okay."

They leave their mugs in the sink, then head upstairs to the master bedroom – the only one that's currently furnished. She lets Phil undress her, then help her into sweatpants and a t-shirt, before he strips to his boxers.

"There's a spare pair of sweats and a spare t-shirt in my bag," she tells him. "They should fit, since my shirt does."

He flashes a grin at her, then digs the items in question from her holdall and pulls them on, before sliding under the covers on her other side.

"Don't you want to take your hand off?" she asks curiously.

"It'll be fine this once," he says reassuringly, so she nods, then lets him draw her body against his. This is not having nothing to lose, but then she'd known all along that she'd never truly be able to cut Phil Coulson out of her life – they simply mean too much to each other.

As she snuggles up against him, both of them mindful of her injuries, she can't help thinking about how much she's missed this. She's missed the sex, of course – she's not a nun – but she's missed the late night cuddles far more.

**[5]**

Daisy sighs softly as Phil nuzzles his nose under her ear.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice muffled by her neck.

"Mm-hmm," she answers, which isn't much of an answer, but she hopes it'll be enough. Right now she doesn't want to talk too much – she just wants to bask in the pleasure of being back in Phil's arms, back in his bed, back at the Playground again. A re-built, re-purposed Playground. Director Mace is gone – he actually came through for Inhumans in the end – and Phil's back as Director – and Daisy Johnson, a known Inhuman, is the new Co-Director of SHIELD. Publicly acknowledged as such, too. It's quite a change from 18 months ago, when the world and his wife was calling her a vigilante and accusing her of all sorts of violence and destruction. The Sokovia Accords have been taken off the statute books around the world, and some countries are even attempting reparations. And while that's terribly important, it's not that important right at this minute, not when Phil Coulson's wicked mouth is doing delicious things to her, not when she can feel his arousal pressing hard against her thigh.

She wraps her arms around him and kisses the top of his head, and he lifts his head, blinking at her. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks. "We don't have to rush into this, you know."

And she knows he means it, that despite his erection, he will wait before having sex with her again. "I am okay," she tells him, "and I do want to do this, but maybe not right now."

"That's okay, Daisy," he says in a sincere tone. "If you just want to cuddle with me, we can do that. I can wait."

She drops her right hand between their bodies to curl around his erection. "Maybe I can do something about this, though," she suggests, one eyebrow raised.

"If you want," he says. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, though."

She stares a bit, open-mouthed. "I want to watch," she tells him in a low voice. She wonders why they've never done that – masturbated in front of each other.

He blinks, looking startled for a moment, then a wicked grin spreads across his face. "I'd like that," he tells her, and she grins back at him, then grabs his sweatpants, tugging at them. He obligingly lifts his ass and lets her drag them off, then leans forward so she can get his t-shirt off too.

He curls his hand – the left one, she notices suddenly with a thrill of excitement – around his erection, and she finds herself mesmerised as she watches him touching and stroking himself until he is spilling his seed onto his belly. As he flops back against the pillows she fetches a washcloth from the ensuite, and comes back to clean him off. When she returns she pulls off her own clothes, then presses her body against his side, and as he wraps his right arm around her, she remembers that she's always loved Phil's late night cuddles.

"You should return the favour," he tells her after a bit.

"Hmm?"

He slides his hand down her side, then brushes it lightly over her sex. "You could let me watch you," he suggests.

She lifts her head from his shoulder. "You're asking me to get myself off in front of you?" she checks, then smirks when, for some reason, he blushes.

"Is that too big an ask?" 

"Nope, I think it's only fair." She slides her hand over his, lacing their fingers together. "Or we could do it together."

He groans. "Daisy." He eases his hand from under hers. "Another time," he tells her. "I just wanna watch this time."

"Okay." She waits while he moves down the bed so he can sit crosslegged and watch properly. He gives her a nod when he's settled, and she spreads her legs to give him a good view, then gets busy. She watches him watching her, and is surprised by how much it turns her on to be watched like this.

When she lies back against the pillows, the heel of her hand resting on her right thigh, and her chest heaving from the intensity of her climax, he moves back up the bed and settles beside her. He reaches over and clasps her wrist, then brings her sticky fingers to his mouth to clean them off, before he persuades her to spoon up together, with him as the big spoon to her little spoon.

"In the morning," he says, his voice sleepy and soft. "I'm gonna go down on you."

She chuckles. "Okay, Phil."

"I mean it," he says, and she tightens her arms, which are resting over his as they embrace.

"I look forward to it," she says sincerely.

"Good." She feels his nose brush her ear, then hears his breathing deepening, even as she's aware of his vibrations becoming softer. She allows herself to drift towards sleep, aware that she is properly safe here in Phil's arms. It feels good.


End file.
